The Chronicles of a Scalebound Sage

[39] The Slave Race

The days after the Gate was restored were hard. Families lost loved ones to the horde, and many people were confused and scared. Time went on as it always does after tragedy. People carried the mantles of the ones lost. Grief became resolved as everyone moved forward as a community. Soon days became weeks, became months, and finally years. 

Isin never thought life could return back to normal; not after what he did, but the seventeen year old found that people moved on. He was unsure if anyone really knew why it happened, besides his father, Bazaath and his friends who were there, but if they did no one talked about it. No one shunned or cursed or banished them from the town. It was as if everyone was apathetic to the cause of the invasion or simply didn’t care. Everyone beside Isin himself.

Since that day his father had come and gone multiple times. No one reacted to him or questioned where he went, or how he left. His mother knew he was a Divine but no one else seemed to. It was as if the information would just slip out of their heads the moment he was gone. Isin didn’t have time to think about it too much, though. His days were spent shepherding goats and working fields.

His father had been vague about some conflict in the north regarding the Divine Dragons and some other Divine monsters. He would never elaborate much further than that. It left Isin to wonder what dragons were and how they would even be a problem for the angels. 

“Hey, move your hands. Am I supposed to be harvesting all by myself or what?” Jiri complained.

The two young men were in a field of wheat, scythes in hand, while a group behind them collected the cut stalks. Isin had stopped amid his ruminations. With a huff he continued to swing the farming implement. 

“You were doing such a good job I thought you didn’t need my help,” Isin responded.

“Don’t be a jackass,” Jiri said with a smirk.

Isin swung the farming tool with practiced efficiency. “I’m not. I was just in awe of your work eth…” He stopped and looked up when the aether began to quiver. “What in the name of the Divines?”

The gate wobbled, the clear blue sky slowly transforming into a hellish nightmare of frozen lightning burning the atmosphere. The smell of ozone singed his nose and the feeling of aether so thick it felt like gravity increased pushed down on everyone. The gate was gone. Everyone panicked; they needed to get inside. Monsters were surely on their way, but why? 

“We have to go now,” Isin said.

“Everyone to the farm house. Now!” Another man screamed.

The farmers all dropped what they were doing and ran to the closest farmhouse. The stone structure stood adjacent to the harvested field. The shepherds farther afield rushed their animals to the nearest barn. They had much farther to go but were making good time.

Isin could not help but think of the horrors the last time the gate had vanished. The bodies in the street, the terrifying monsters that had nearly killed him, his friends and mother. The tears shed for those lost as they lit the send off pyres. 

He shook the thoughts from his head. Right now what was important was survival; his father showed up last time, so surely he would come again. 

As the first man reached the farmhouse and touched the door he split in half. Blood sprayed the men standing next to him. Isin saw a thin tendril of aether cut up the ground where the man had stood before it vanished. Everyone stopped where they were and looked up.

A woman in a suit Isin had come to recognize as the technology of the Divine descended from the sky. The skin tight armor she wore glistened in the radiance of her aether, the cloth gave a modicum of modesty to her curves. Her six wings opened wide as metal spheres orbited around her, each of them moving in unpredictable patterns as they weaved in and out of existence.  

“An enclave of the slave race here?” the woman spat. Her voice traveled through the aether itself. “I told you I sensed something in the region ages ago. Is this not proof that Bazaath is conspiring against us?”

A second angel, this one a man nearly twice the size of the woman, appeared suddenly. Instead of a single halo of crystallized light he had three, each of larger size than the last. 

“Hasmanuel, do not speak out of turn. I will give Bazaath the chance to explain himself.” The man spoke calmly but his voice rolled like thunder through the aether, nearly deafening everyone with its magnitude. “As for the slave race, we will decide what to do with them when he arrives.”

Hasmanuel hissed her discontent. “You are giving him the benefit of the doubt? I have brought you proof of his betrayal.” She made a gesture towards the expanse of the village. “Bazaath deserves nothing but death, as do these slaves. Grand General, you favor him too much; this goes against our way.”

“I have made my decision. Gather them there,” The grand general said and vanished, his presence in the aether gone with him.

The woman screamed and looked out over the village.

“Slaves of Bazaath: hear the voice of your creators and obey!” Hasmanuel screamed angrily. “Go to the fields and wait for slaughter. Those that do not move die now. Enter one of these hovels and die. Disobey and die.” 

After a second a beam shot from one of the orbs into the town, then another, then at one of the men in the field near Isin. The beams hit their target in the head, burning a hole clean through as the bodies fell limp and lifeless to the ground. Panic again broke out as a second man tried to make it into the barn to hide, but as soon as he touched the door he fell over dead.

“Wh-what is this?” Jiri asked. “Is that a Divine? I thought they were protectors?”

Isin took his friend's hand and dragged him in the direction of the fields.

“Everyone, do what she says if you don’t want to die!” Isin yelled. “To the field!”

Everyone that survived the beams of the crazy Divine woman met in the largest pasture between the walls and farmland. Isin found his mother, relieved that she was alive. Jiri, Pavel and Martin, along with the surviving members of their families, were there as well. Everyone huddled silently together in fear that speaking would bring the scorn of the angel above.

She descended into the pasture without provocation, landing on the ground with surprising grace as her wings folded. Her skin looked like brass and her hair was fire. She towered over everyone at eight feet tall. Her gaze was full of disdain like she wanted to kill everyone there, and the only thing holding her back was the orders from the Grand General.

“Let’s get a closer look,” Hasmanuel said as a plethora of holographic screens appeared around her head. 

One of the balls that orbited the angel flew into the crowd and chose someone at random to float around. Aether flowed from the metal sphere, wrapping around the man. It started to drag him towards the angel with him screaming for it to let go. He struggled but it wasn’t any use. A second orb floated to the man and shot a beam into his throat, which destroyed his vocal cords and prevented him from screaming further.

“That is better,” Hasmanuel said as the man was lifted up next to her. “Definitely, the slave race, but it doesn’t have behavioral implants.” She opens the man’s mouth with aether and looked in. “Minor changes to physiology. Memory alterations detected as well.”

Patr the town magecrafter, alongside the wind sorceress and the warrior, sprang into action as soon as it seemed the angel was focused elsewhere. The warrior rushed over and grabbed the man with speed enhanced by the use of aether. Patr spoke the words of power, which created aetheric patterns in the air around him as the spell formed. Meanwhile the sorceress flew up into the air, raining down a bloom of white hot aetheric fire which engulfed the angel unrelentingly. Finally Patr’s spell finished, and a blinding light radiated from his hand, causing an explosion as soon as it struck. 

A barrier surrounded the crowd of townsmen, protecting them from the heat and shockwave that shook the landscape. The field was reduced to a smoking crater as rock was vaporized under the might of the spell. 

“Everyone get back,” Patr said as he stood before the crater. “Go hide somewhere; we will hol–”

A single beam of light penetrated the barrier and struck Patr in the head. He was dead before his body hit the ground. The sorceress too suddenly fell from the sky, lifeless. The dust and smoke were cleared away by a gust of wind and aetheric might. Hasmanuel was uninjured but intensely more annoyed.

“Humans that can use aether. What a fucking joke,” Hasmanuel said as she turned to the warrior.

One of the orbs shot him dead where he stood, and then continued to shoot the body as the angel's rage increased. She turned back to the crowd, anger twisting her face as the orb prepared to fire, ready to kill everyone. 

A new melodic voice shook the aether. “Oh my, oh my, looks like she was right.”

Three more angels descended, Bazaath amongst them in golden chains. One of the other angels was a woman with white marble skin, and the last was a man the color of steel that held the other end of the chains. Their appearance seemed to calm Hasmanuel, and seeing Bazaath in chains caused a grin to spread across her face.

“It took you two long enough,” Hasmanuel said.